Perceptions
by Teach Me To Dream
Summary: Everyone knew their names. Nobody saw it coming. Rated M for language and scenes of a sexual nature.


_**Perceptions  
**_ Chapter One: Early Birds

The guitar rested in her hands, and her chin pressed on the curve of wood as she sat, unmoving. She could hear the fire crackling, and the warmth lapped against her spine in a way that was close to being painful. She inhaled deeply before blowing it out between her ruby lips and glanced out of the tower window. The sky had turned orange, although she had no idea when it had happened, and birds were beginning to hum on the roof outside. Damn it, she'd been up all night, _again_ , and what did she have to show for it? Nothing but a dent on her chin and dark stains beneath her eyes. Rose straightened and ran one hand through her hair, already regretting her all-nighter. If only her mother could see her now, staying awake to stare into space rather than study. She could almost _hear_ the scolding she'd receive. Oh well, what her parents didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Her fingers strummed down the strings once, and the sound filled the room. Usually, it comforted her but at that moment all Rose felt was frustration. Creativity was coursing through her veins and she _wanted_ to let it out but as hard as she tried, Rose couldn't produce a melody of any sort. Her guitar was her most prized possession, and had brought her a great deal of attention when she'd first arrived at Hogwarts with it. It had been a gift from her grandfather, who shared her fascination for muggle objects. That had been three years ago, and now she played as naturally as she cast spells. Rose couldn't help but think that wizards were missing out, but at the same time, she found pleasure in the guitar being hers alone. Nobody else understood it, nobody else could play, and nobody felt the way she did when it was in her hands.

A creak in the boards above her head caused Rose's heart to jolt, and she stared at the ceiling. If James found her he'd be _sure_ to announce it at some inappropriate time during Christmas break, probably to drag her down with him the next time he got into trouble. Another squeak and she winced, fingers gripping her guitar tightly as if it was about to strum on its own and alert the entire house to her presence in the common room. Rose listened as whoever it was shuffled around, and pursed her lips at the familiar creak of hinges. It was from the boys dormitory, who knew what they were doing up at dawn but it spelled trouble for her. Staying up wasn't against the house rules, but Professor Longbottom frowned upon it, and would no doubt express his concerns to her parents. Why it was _her_ who had family so connected to the staff she didn't know, it was just another quirk of being a Weasley.

The first step thudded, and Rose leapt into action. Instrument in hand, she darted towards the portrait entrance and pushed it open. The fat lady complained sleepily but it didn't stop Rose, who jogged down the corridor without looking back. It was unlikely that anybody would find her, and technically curfew broke at sunrise, but who knew what Filch would say if he was in a bad mood. Her dad had told Rose that Filch should be retired by now, or dead, but apparently the man clung to life as stubbornly as he did his cat, who he had taken to carrying around due to its age. Without thinking, her feet took her down the several staircases towards the entrance hall. Her eyes flickered over her shoulder every few seconds, but not even the paintings were awake yet, let alone Filch, who surely had to sleep at some point.

Rose made it to the courtyard entrance and slipped outside into the morning air. It was cold, and she wished she'd brought a coat but it was too late to waste time regretting her decisions. With a final glance around, Rose settled into an alcove and stretched her legs on the bench. This was better, she preferred being outdoors to inside anyway. After six years at Hogwarts, the novelty of being in the castle was wearing thin. It was better to sit down by the lake, or at Hagrid's hut, or even at the edge of the forest. Anywhere that made getting lost easier. That was all Rose wanted to do lately, but she had no idea what her reality was lacking that made her so desperate to flee from it. Rose shook her head to rid herself of the solemn thoughts and ran her index finger over her strings. Playing was the key to her escape. It would help. It _always_ helped.

* * *

He _needed_ to keep running. If he stopped he'd die, and that would really suck on a Friday. Who wanted to die on a fucking Friday? Dying felt like something that should only occur on Mondays, that day was _made_ for it. His feet thumped on the uneven floor, and his heart raced against his legs, beating so loudly that he was sure it would soon give up completely. Branches obstructed his path but he didn't even raise his arms anymore, instead pelting through them as if they didn't exist. They snagged his jacket, and scratched his cheek but he barely noticed the pain. This wasn't his first time outrunning centaurs, and he was sure it wouldn't be his last.

"Malfoy!" A voice screeched but he didn't slow, instead grinning widely at how distant the cry was. He could see the fractured sunlight ahead, and was almost certain he was going to make it out. An arched root stood in his way and he picked up his pace in order to leap over it. The toe of his shoe caught the edge and he stumbled forwards. He lost momentum and suddenly the sound of hooves grew louder, until the ground beneath him began to vibrate. "Shit," he hissed before lurching on as his smugness faded. It had been a long time since they'd been this close to catching him, clearly he was getting lazy. What had he been taught? To _never_ underestimate a centaur, but after years dealing with them he'd begun to forget that lesson.

Something whizzed past his ear and he ducked as another skimmed his hair. Arrows, seriously? He'd pissed them off way worse than this before, and they'd never resorted to shooting him in the goddam head. Had he finally earned their hatred? Was he now centaur enemy number one? It shouldn't make him feel proud, and yet his chest swelled all the same. The trees became more sporadic and he blinked as natural light dazzled him, but it was a good sign, it meant he was almost out. Six final sprinted steps and he broke through the forest barrier, falling onto the luscious green grass, damp with dew.

He lay on his back and craned his neck up to watch as three centaurs stopped behind the first layer of trees. They stared at him, and he stared back, lips twitching with the urge to smile. "Scorpius Malfoy," one spat, his ash body quivering with rage. Slowly, he raised his bow and pointed an arrow directly at the boy's chest. Scorpius' smile fell and he raised a hand gently, silently asking him to stand down. The centaur drew his elbow back and for a second, Scorpius knew he was fucked. Just as the creatures fingers loosened for release, his companion rested a hand on his thick shoulder and shook his head. If he killed Scorpius on Hogwarts grounds it would cross a line they could not return from. They knew it wasn't worth the cost, and so did Scorpius. Reluctantly, the centaur lowered his bow, but kept his black eyes trained on the blonde boy. "You do not come back, ever. The next time, you will not make it out alive."

Scorpius' shoulders relaxed and he nodded, "Message received," he said flatly. Throwing him a last hateful scowl, the centaurs retreated into the shadow, leaving Scorpius to catch his breath. He sighed and collapsed back onto the earth as a hysterical smile swept across his pale face. That would teach him for getting cocky, he'd have to be more careful the next time. _The next time…_ when had he become the guy who almost died and immediately thought about how to avoid it when he was in that position again? Get back on the horse - that was what he'd heard a muggle born saying to her moronic friend in Potions class. In Scorpius' case the reference was almost a little too literal, and a chuckle escaped him. He'd get back on the horse alright, but maybe he'd leave it a couple of days to let their rage settle first.

Scorpius remained where he was for several minutes, feeling his pulse gradually slow and tension leave his muscles. The sky above was stained red, which superstition stated made the day a bad one. Well, he was alive, so that was something. As an owl swooped above, heading to the Owlery, Scorpius begrudgingly forced himself off the damp grass. Even in the sun it was cold, so he buried his hands in his pockets and made his way to the castle. He was tired but the adrenaline hadn't completely worn off yet, meaning his body hadn't crashed. With any luck, he'd last the day without collapsing, which he'd done before in the middle of dinner. Everyone assumed he'd been hexed, and he let them think it rather than tell them the truth. People believed what they wanted to about Scorpius, and fighting against their opinions seemed like a complete waste of time and effort.

As he neared the courtyard he slowed, listening for any teachers who had decided to take a morning stroll. His eyebrows dipped together as a sound found his ears, trying to work out what the source was. It wasn't a voice, or human at all from the layered tones. It picked up tempo and Scorpius realised what it was, although it did little to sate him. Who the hell was playing a guitar at five in the fucking morning? If they were any louder they would wake the rest of the castle, not that he cared about anyone's peaceful night, but he _did_ mind about being caught. He clearly hadn't been to bed yet, and detention was a shitty way to start his weekend off.

Hoping they were nearly finished, Scorpius leaned against a pillar and rested his head back. To be fair to whoever it was, they didn't play half bad. In fact, if he wasn't in such a mood he may have even enjoyed it. The rhythm was soothing, and he'd always liked the way guitars sounded, despite them being a muggle invention. Wizards had them of course, but magic was used to bring them to life, which sucked some of the beauty out of them. His eyes drifted shut as the player continued, and sleep began pulling at the corners of his mind. Scorpius wanted to go to bed, and if he hurried he may get a couple of hours in before classes started. _If_ the sunrise serenade ever ended that was.

Five minutes dragged by, and the pleasure of listening had well and truly been crushed to dust. He couldn't get into the school without going through the greenhouse entrance, and out of every teacher it was most likely going to be Longbottom who was awake at this ridiculous hour. Grunting in annoyance, Scorpius stepped into view with a glare at the ready for whoever it was with the guitar. Probably a Hufflepuff, they were a right hippie bunch of idiots.

Scorpius stopped as he found the musician, although all he could see from his angle were their legs on the bench. It was obviously a girl from her thin fingered hands, which continued to pluck at the strings contently. He could leave right now and she wouldn't even know he'd been there. It would be the polite thing to do, but she seemed too happy where she was and he needed someone to vent his frustrations at. "Will you shut the fuck up?" He said, and immediately the girl stopped, but she didn't move to show herself. That pissed him off further, for no good reason. "It's five in the morning and some of us are trying to get some sleep, but it's a bit difficult with you and your one man bloody band."

Who cares if he hadn't been asleep, he was planning on it and that counted. Still the girl didn't shift, and he exhaled a long breath. Did it really matter who she was? Would his life be affected if her identity remained a secret? Yes, at that moment it would. "Stop being so rude and answer me," he snapped, and stalked towards her, but before he had chance to reach the girl she heaved forwards and swung her legs off the bench to face him.

Scorpius stopped and his jaw clenched instinctively. Out of everyone, it had to be Rose _fucking_ Weasley. Her red hair fell around her shoulders and she scowled at him in a way that was reminiscent of the centaurs. He hated her just as much as the beasts, if not more. At least they had a right to be up themselves, Rose waltzed around like a Queen all because of her father, which wasn't a good enough reason in Scorpius' eyes.

He glanced up fleetingly. _Red skies were a bad omen_. Nothing had ever been more true.

* * *

Rose waited for Malfoy to say something, but he just stared as though he'd never seen her before. Did he think she'd forgotten how much he loathed her? They were enemies before they were born, created to hate one another, a lion and a snake in their case. From the first time they'd met Rose had judged him, which was something she usually avoided, but she'd grown up listening to stories about Scorpius' father, and that changed things. All she could think of when she looked at Scorpius was her Dad vomiting slugs, or her Mum crying because of something Draco Malfoy had said, or the dark mark which had branded him. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, and Scorpius seemed to be just as spiteful as his father.

"Tongue tied Malfoy? That isn't like you," she said and narrowed her eyes. Surely the pair couldn't be greater opposites if they tried? Scorpius was ice blonde where Rose was deep red, his blue eyes conflicted with her golden brown irises, and where she was soft and curved he was firm and toned. Nothing about them matched, other than the way their expressions darkened as they faced one another. "Weasley, what the hell are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in your common room snuggling up to the Potter lot?"

"That joke is getting repetitive, you could do with some new material," she answered sourly. Scorpius didn't respond and she didn't blame him, over the years they'd exhausted themselves with insults and she couldn't be bothered at that moment to get into it with him. Rose peered at the rips in his clothes and noted the mud clinging to his shoes. "Where have you been, anyway?" She asked, and he snorted, "None of your business." Her brain kicked into gear as Rose looked in the direction he'd come from, where the wood sat in the distance. "The forbidden forest? Honestly Malfoy, didn't sneaking in there get old after second year?"

Scorpius stiffened and her curiosity peaked, he was obviously hiding something, the question was did she care enough to investigate? The sun slipped over the stone walls and she held a hand up to shield her eyes. It had gone from a late night, to an early start and she knew that sleep was a far off dream now. It wasn't Malfoy's fault, but she blamed him. Deciding that no, she didn't care what he was doing, Rose stood up and held the neck of her guitar in one hand. Scorpius eyed it and she felt her defences rise, she had never wanted him to see it and hated that he had. "Do all of you Weasley's play?" He asked, and she frowned, wondering if an insult was on its way or not. "No," she said shortly and he rolled his eyes at her. "Fucking hell you're miserable."

"Only to snakes."

"I doubt that."

"A snake would," she finished and Scorpius' jaw clenched tightly. Pride swelled in her chest, and she smiled slightly. Feeling was good, she'd been missing it lately.

"What are you so hap-" he paused and sucked on his teeth, "You know what, I don't care."

"That makes two of us. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be anywhere other than with you. I have a life to get to."

Scorpius chuckled as Rose headed past him, resisting the urge to smash the guitar across the back of his head. "Keep telling yourself that Weasley, and maybe one day it'll be true." She didn't reply and didn't look back, just kept on walking back to the common room. She wasn't sure what she'd tell James if he was up, but mentioning Scorpius would definitely distract him. Technically, it was the boys who usually fought with the blonde and his friends, and she realised it was the first time she'd been with him alone. _Keep telling yourself that…_ the words echoed in her mind long after she'd left him. It was cutting too close to the bone for her liking, and he didn't even know it. Rose wasn't sure what was wrong with her, whether she had finally hit the teenage stage her mother told her about, or if her life was lacking focus. Either way, she couldn't stand it. Rose wanted excitement, danger, adventure, like her parents had experienced during their time at school. It didn't matter how many times they told her it was traumatic, or how pale her father became whenever he had to apparate as he gripped his left shoulder, it changed nothing. Rose wasn't saying she wanted a war, but _something_ other than her dull routine would be nice. As she reached the fat lady and mumbled the password, Rose slapped a smile on her face and tried to ignore the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Like hell was she letting Scorpius Malfoy get to her, she was a Gryffindor and Weasley, and cowards like him weren't worth her energy. Sometimes it's easier to lie to yourself than other people.


End file.
